


Wolf in Winter

by nava



Series: falling and fumbling [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Romance, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nava/pseuds/nava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Predators hunt by being patient or through ambush, Inquisitor.” </p><p>“Am I being hunted, Solas?”</p><p> </p><p>What really happened at the Winter Palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf in Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Solas’ uniform is the “sith Solas mod” on nexusmods. Is it worth a look? Yes. Yes it is.

It wasn’t often she found herself in a dress tailor-made for her. Rather, it was the first time a dress had ever been made to her exact specifications. Not a lot of business directed towards qunari that didn’t directly involve armor or weapons. 

If it hadn’t been for Vivienne’s strong opinions on the necessity for her to look proud and regal, in spite of her being the “wild vashoth”, she would have just as soon worn a variation of the general military uniform the rest of the Inquisition (except, of course, Madame de Fer) had been forced into. She supposed that if it concerned politics it made sense, because the racism was alive and well in Orlais, even with the dress and mask she’d had forced on her. 

As if that weren’t enough pressure, her shoes were killing her. 

Herah fanned herself when she was almost positive no one was looking at her directly. She puffed out an irritated breath. All the nobles that did end up looking over at her; eyeing her expensive clothes and then trailing up to her horns. She tried not to expressively sigh. 

Damn nobles. 

At least everyone else seemed to be having fun while they waited for Leliana’s spies to give the signal to move forward in their plans. Dorian was flirting with at least three other people, Leliana was revisiting people who knew her as Nightingale, Josephine - well Josephine didn’t look like she was having a great time either but at least she was with family, Vivienne was holding court with various nobles, Varric was speaking to his fans and Solas…

Where  _ was  _ Solas? 

She’d only had a bare glimpse of him near the back of her entourage when they came in. He’d looked handsome in black and red. She hadn’t had time to really look at him for long before Vivienne and Josephine had herded her to her carriage. Although the hat they made him wear was rather silly. It looked like a thimble. She’d need to fling that off of him as soon as she was able. 

Preferably in a dark, unnoticed corner where not even the servants tread. If he wanted to go to a dark corner, anyway.

Herah wasn’t typically an impatient person, but she was rather direct. She’d directly flirted with Solas, mostly with the understanding that he wouldn’t flirt back or he would but wouldn’t mean any attraction behind it. Until he did flirt back. And he meant it - she knew that look in a man’s eye well enough to spot attraction and she wasn’t so dull that she played it off; it was just unexpected. 

Qunari women didn’t typically get noticed like that by other men who weren’t qunari. Women were a different matter, although they seemed more geared towards height and size, something exotic and dangerous which didn’t really feel that great either. 

Solas just didn’t care about that. Herah...was completely fine with that. 

He didn’t look at the length of her legs or spine, the breadth of her shoulders or the horns, the sharp nails she was mindful to file down whenever possible or the sharp teeth behind a closed-lipped smile. He enjoyed her company, her intellect and personality, found her funny at times even though the vashoth culture sometimes eluded him. “Tal-vashoth isn’t the same as vashoth.” She’d insisted once. “Bull is tal-vashoth because he left the qun. I never left anything, I was born outside of it. So, I’m vashoth.” And had added a smile at the end. 

“Fascinating.” He’d said and meant it - which never happened, ever because a qunari was a qunari was a qunari right? They had horns and were giants of varying skin color. End of story - only it wasn’t. He asked questions. He was curious and sincere. That never happened with someone from another race and it had thrown Herah for a loop, but she’d accepted it at first because Solas was curious about everything. He hated the qun, but seemed intrigued by tal-vashoth, and later mostly interested in her life, where she’d lived, how she was raised, why she became a mercenary…

He viewed her first as a curiosity, then a friend and then...well she had no idea. No solid idea anyway. She wasn’t a blushing maiden completely oblivious to attraction. She’d been attracted since the start - he had a dry, grim kind of wit and was kinder than he liked letting on. And opinionated. He liked debating. 

But between the Breach and the whole world going mad, and his constant, unobtrusive regard and her own ignorance in dealing with romance beyond other qunari, they were left in a kind of limbo that probably irritated and amused their friends. Particularly Dorian. 

To say nothing of Cole who, while better at it, still blurted out things if she and Solas were near each other and he was too. “She thinks about your ears a lot.” Or, “He likes the smell of the soap you use.” Or, infamously, “Close but far, never quite touching, fingers tread on wool and she wonders if you’d like to touch her as much as she wants to touch you.” 

Dorian and Vivienne had both been present. Less than an ideal time to have sensual non-confessions come out. 

Even with all the ribbing from their friends and whatever Cole inevitably said, they were stuck. Herah had no idea how to fix that. She could close rifts, kill demons, quell rebellions, betray an entire nation, and lead the Inquisition but she couldn’t figure out how to say “I like you, do you like me too?” to one elf. 

Fantastic. 

She moved away when one of the same nobles brushed up against her, and she refrained from grumbling when she felt a gloved hand at her back. She excused herself, pretending to have noticed someone who wasn’t there waving her over. She doubted the noble bought it, but he didn’t say anything. 

The guards at the open doors of the ballroom nodded respectfully to her and she returned it. She cast about for Cassandra or Sera...anyone who wasn’t Orlesian and would inevitably want to speak to her about some kind of horrendous, innuendo-filled cultural exchange. 

“I hadn’t realized the courts were so outwardly unsavory to you, Inquisitor.” The voice made her stop and smile. Solas leaned against the wall of a dark corner, people-watching contentedly. 

“I wouldn’t call being propositioned the way I was tonight quite pleasant.” She sashayed - and she knew she was, but she couldn’t help it - towards him and his eyes drew momentarily down to her hips before he dragged them back up to her face. “I believe he said something along the lines of ‘I have always enjoyed mountain-climbing, Inquisitor. I find it so...invigorating. Good for the body as well as the heart. Because mountains deserve recognition and must be conquered with care.’” She put on a heavy, bad, Orlesian accent. 

Solas laughed in delight. “A mountain? Surely he could’ve found a more appealing comparison.” 

She raised her brows and tilted her head. A precise lock of hair, curled and separate from the complex bun the rest of her hair had been braided in to, fell to the side of her face. “Oh really? And what, might I ask, would you have used in lieu?” 

The look he gave was enough to make her sweat. “Certainly not something to be conquered.” 

She cleared her throat and came closer, setting a hand on the railing to the closed wing above them. “But I’m the ‘wild vashoth’ as Vivienne put it so quaintly. And I’m quite sure that Orlesians have some fixation with things - and people - that they consider wild or uncivilized.” 

Solas hummed thoughtfully. “Vashoth, certainly, but as to whether you are wild? I am uncertain. You are indomitable but not a creature to be tamed as a prize.” He paused. “And if you are wild, I have yet to see it although it may appear in...a situation I have yet to witness.” 

Oh.  _ Oh  _ that was bold. He was - he  _ was _ , wasn’t he? He just threw the gauntlet at her. Sneaky elf.

She tsked and tried to hold the giggle that threatened to escape from her throat down. “If I am wild, which is not to say either or, I’m not sure if it would be something you’d be able to completely manage.” Her eyes slid back to him slowly. She reached over and plucked the cap from his head slowly and set it on the ornate baluster. 

The blue of his eyes had gone dark and his focused intent on her seemed sharper. “You have some doubts of my control?” 

“Not your control. Just your...ability to command. You have a preference on the battlefield to work independently or as support.” She shrugged in a nonchalant way that clashed with the heady flush that had stolen its way along her neck and shoulders. 

Solas chuckled, a low sound that reached her ears like velvet on a warm night. “I do not lack the ability, I assure you. It just seems a waste. Command is necessary for those who are unsure of themselves or others.” His eyes dragged over her form slowly and Herah straightened a little. “You have no such reservations, of that I am sure.” 

Herah cleared her throat to try to ward away the huskiness she knew had suddenly stuck in her throat and was about as successful as Cullen avoiding the attentions of the nobles. “You still didn’t answer my original question: what would you have suggesting instead of using a mountain?” 

“Certainly not a creature to be mundanely tamed, fitted for a harness and bit. Or even a mountain to be symbolically conquered for the sake of conquest. A dream, perhaps.” He said softly and Herah swallowed. “Not something to be taken, but given and shared, without boundary or question. An event - no, an affair, to be revisited as often as possible without constraints of time or rules.” He stared up at her and she felt that there was some whirlpool in his gaze and she was the ship that had drifted too close. 

“That is a much better proposition.” She admitted and her eyes widened behind her mask at her admittance. She hadn’t meant to say that. She definitely hadn’t meant for that to slip. Damn that Orlesian wine for being so sweet. 

Solas looked away. “It was not.” 

Because of course it wasn’t. Damn it. She had no idea what elves did for flirting. If he were qunari, she just would’ve asked if he found her attractive or wanted sex. 

“Right, of course.” The disappointment was laid bare in her voice. She couldn’t help it. 

A hand laid atop her own, trailing over her long fingers and the jut of her wrist. “It would be unwise for an elven servant to proposition the leader of the Inquisition so shamelessly in the Winter Palace.” 

Wait. What? “What?” Herah asked. She looked over at Solas but his gaze was on their hands. 

“While this is an exciting place full of scandal and intrigue, it wouldn’t be an ideal place for the Inquisitor to be caught doing anything that could affect her circumstances within the court.” He tried. His fingers went over the bumps of her knuckles slowly and he made his way up her arm. “Regardless of how...tempting the idea of the closed quarters of the Royal Wing may be.” 

Oh. Well. She could work with that. 

“That is all true. But it only holds weight if the Inquisitor got caught.” She made a show of lifting her head to look around. The only people around were the hooded figures of the Carta, completely uninterested in the qunari and elf speaking across the way. “But if they were so inclined, they may have some time away from the eyes and ears of literally everyone in Thedas. I heard that the qunari isn’t even the real Inquisitor. Can you imagine a qunari leading anyone? It’s a miracle they can even speak.” She said wryly. 

Solas’ lips twitched in a small smile. “It is incredibly amusing when she is grossly underestimated only to sweep her challengers off their feet.” 

“Just amusing?” She asked lightly. 

“Among other things.” He conceded. And he returned the favor from earlier, unhooking her elaborate mask with nimble fingers, brushing along the rises of her cheekbones and the thin skin beneath her eyes. Her mask joined his hat. 

And the heat that flooded her after that simple gesture swamped her, swallowed her whole. “As riveting as this conversation is, Solas, I think I need to sit down. I’m feeling a little tired.” She pulled away from his hand and she lingered close to him, bodies nearly touching but not quite. He leaned in to her, bringing them that much closer - she could feel his heat seep into her but still, they didn’t touch. 

He tilted his head in a slight bow. “I would be remiss if I didn’t escort you, my lady.” There was a smile on his face, wolfish and gentlemanly. 

With her hands folded before her and his hand at her back, they ascended the stairs to the Royal Wing, and Herah kept herself from pressing her cold hands to her face to ward off the flush she knew had taken up residence. She all but fled to an open door and Solas shut and locked it behind him. 

“People will talk.” He warned when she settled on the bed. 

“They always talk. Whether I’m a mage, or qunari, or what I do or don’t say.” She shrugged and let herself fall back on the bed with a sigh. She tried not to feel guilty about running away while there was an assassin on the loose, but honestly, with Leliana that close to Celene, she doubted anyone would be stupid enough to strike at that moment. Not mention the ever vigilant Vivienne. 

“You will not enjoy what they have to say.” He came closer, one foot in front of the other, silent and light. She watched the movement of his body, fluid and predacious. He cocked his head slightly to watch her. The shadow he cast from the low fire of the room stalked along the walls and loomed over her. 

“They never really say anything I enjoy. Remember when we first met Sera, she said she could climb me like a tree? It’s all variations of that, but more insulting.” She managed. 

“I don’t want to talk about Sera.” His voice came across keenly. 

It was enough to make her mouth snap shut. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. “What is it you do want to talk about Solas?” Her voice was somewhere between a croak and a whisper. 

When he laughed, it startled her. It was just on the edge of menacing and it kindled something in her chest. The shadows cast by the firelight sharpened his cheekbones and nose, darkened his eyes and emphasized his ears, hid his mouth but for the whiteness of his teeth - sharper than they usually were. “If there was anything I wanted to discuss, Inquisitor, I would not have led you away from the eyes and ears of everyone.” He stood beside her knees where her feet dangled just above the floor. With one hand, he lifted a knee and slid her shoe off, rubbing her instep. 

“Led me away?” She asked, playing along and enjoying the feel of his knuckles pressing in to her sore foot. 

“Hm. Led, herded, encouraged. Dared, even.” He set her leg down and reached for the other and cast off that shoe as well. He rubbed that foot and sank down to his knees to tug at a stocking. She stiffened but relaxed when he murmured something in elvish. She had no idea what he said, but it sounded soothing. 

“You say that like I didn’t suggest it first. I need to rest a bit, remember?” She paused when he chuckled and thought back. Wait. Oh, damn it. All that wash about “how tempting the Royal Wing was” and how the “Winter Palace wasn’t an ideal place”. Damn his subtext. “You think you’re so clever.” She grumbled. 

“I do.” He admitted. He rolled one stocking off slowly and pressed his mouth to the bend of her knee. She sighed loudly. “Predators hunt by being patient or through ambush, Inquisitor.” He murmured into her skin. 

She squirmed a little at the feeling of his mouth against her bare skin. “Am I being hunted, Solas?” She met his eyes over the rise of her chest. 

He rolled the other stocking off and climbed up her body, pushing her dress up as he went. The rush of blood pounded in her ears and her heart beat a drum against her ribs. 

“You have been for some time.” And he grinned that same grin from earlier, balancing wolf and gentleman in one. He curled over her, hands on the inside of her dress, pressing into the wide expanse of her hips, thumbs at the bands of her smallclothes. 

Her breathing deepened and she tilted her head, bit his chin gently. “You will find that I am, in fact, just a little wild.” She breathed. 

His gaze sought hers and he caught her bottom lip with his mouth. “I look forward to it.” 

They shifted on the bed, a promise of sweat and skin and exploration as unknown and anticipated as the far reaches of the world they’d traversed together and -

 

 

 

“ _ Varric _ !” 

Herah folded her arms and stared down at the dwarf. He peeked up, glasses perched at the bridge of his nose. “Your Inquisitiveness! How can I help?” He said it completely innocently and shuffled the papers before him busily. 

The qunari woman folded her arms and glared down at him in a way that somehow drew attention to her horns. Which supposedly Solas did hold onto during sex, according to Dorian. It would make for interesting material further on down the road. 

“Do you know what Sera was passing around in the tavern?” She asked demandingly in a way that wasn’t really asking. 

He clucked his tongue. “Bees? Lizards?” Or pies. Could be anything with that one. 

“A first draft of your - your - nosiness!” She shook a small sheaf of rolled papers at him. She’d clenched her fist tightly around them and they were all wrinkled now. 

Huh. He wondered how many other copies Sera had made. Probably a lot, if only to get to "Inky". 

“You know I was wondering what happened to it. I mean, I’ve already moved on to a newer draft but -” 

“Varric! This is - this is smut! About me! About -” her gaze wandered to the rotunda and she sputtered. “I thought you didn’t write smut - and don’t even say  _ Swords and Shields  _ damn you. And there was a lot of dialogue in this that was suspiciously familiar - do you spy on us?” 

Varric leaned back into his chair and spread his hands. “Technically, that is just one part of the book I’m writing about you - which I’m probably going to have to split in half, by the way. So it’s not just smut. I wrote about Hawke’s forays in  _ Tale of the Champion  _ if you’ll recall. You did read it, after all.” 

She shook the papers at him. “As true as that is, Varric, Hawke told you all about it - you said he never shut up about it. Especially about the Blooming Rose. And that one time he left Bethany outside while he - that isn’t the point. That’s not the point. The point  _ is _ : this isn’t what happened at the Winter Palace.” 

She cocked her hip, fisted hand with the papers resting on her side. Varric leaned forward and clasped his hands together. He looked at her seriously over his glasses. “So. Are you ready to tell your favorite dwarf a story?”

Herah’s mouth opened, then closed. “You’re just the worst sort of person.” She said finally. 

He shook a finger at her reprovingly. “I am a storyteller. A writer. We have to keep telling stories about the people history builds up, or else no one will believe you’re people.” He said kindly and Herah softened a little. 

“Varric.” She said with a small smile. 

“And also because everyone wants to know that heroes got a little frisky while saving the world. Especially with someone else nobody saw coming.” He added with a rusty chuckle. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes. 

“It does help with the image of you being more than a legend. People will need to understand that legends are made; through history and circumstance, but were also flesh and blood.” Solas’ voice reached them from the threshold of the rotunda. He smiled at Herah. She smiled back and then it dropped when he revealed the papers he’d hidden behind his back. “Courtesy of Dorian.” He said. 

“I will say, Master Tethras, that I enjoyed it, you have a gift for embellishment where there was none. Although, the writing is not nearly as...salacious as it was in practice.” Solas inclined his head. 

“Kadan - don’t, don’t say that in front of Varric, it’ll egg him on!” She stuttered, wide eyes locked on Solas. 

The elf smiled. “I believe Master Tethras looks to us for inspiration regardless -  he uses enough of our words. The rest, will unfortunately fall short. There are no words to describe you that would do you justice, vhen’an.” 

Varric laughed at the look on Herah’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative summary:
> 
> Varric writes friend fiction that takes place at the Winter Palace. He warned her to give him details or he’d make something up. 
> 
> And yes, most of the dialogue in Varric's "friend-fiction" was taken from actual conversations he'd heard/known about from Herah and Solas. Probably will write about some of it later.


End file.
